


Shadows of My Name

by klytaemnestra (klytae)



Series: Midgar Blues - A Collection of Shinra Noir [12]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29417436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klytae/pseuds/klytaemnestra
Summary: The terms of this encounter were negotiated earlier over cocktails, it fills him with an excitement and trepidation, acutely aware of the killer he takes into his bed. Tseng is dangerous, but more so, he is skilled.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Series: Midgar Blues - A Collection of Shinra Noir [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915873
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	Shadows of My Name

**Author's Note:**

> This encounter, while involving darker themes, is entirely consensual.

The first thing Rufus Shinra is aware of is that he's been hit with a Sleep spell, powerful enough to render him unconscious. The second is he has been temporarily blinded. The third that he is very much not alone. He hears the low rumble of the rail, its vibrations running through the plate, still topside, at least, but where? His mind searches for an answer, without the luxury of sight, his other senses begin to overcompensate. There's the creak of leather gloves, the rustle of fabric. A suit he knows to be dark and perfectly tailored. The scent of gunpowder and sandalwood, cedar, myrrh hangs heavy in the air. He swallows, straightens, feels the weight of shackles on his wrists, not standard cuffs, something heavier, padded. How considerate.

He calls out once, and when no answer comes, shivers ever so slightly.

Footsteps draw near, behind him, and slightly to the right. Rufus lifts his head instinctually as if the darkness might lift, and tugs at his bonds once more. ‘Tseng?’ There is fear, and something more. _Desire_. He waits in the stillness in anticipation of some stereotypical quip of how he’s finally awake, and when none comes, his pulse begins to quicken. The slide of leather along his jawline elicits a sudden intake of breath, hissed inward through clenched teeth. The terms of this encounter were negotiated earlier over cocktails, it fills him with an excitement and trepidation, acutely aware of the killer he takes into his bed. Tseng is dangerous, but more so, he is skilled.

Fingertips brush downward, along the arch of his neck, tracing the collarbone from where it peeks above the crisp lines of his shirt. He calls his lover’s name again as a hand clenches around his throat. 

_Do you want me to interrogate you, or hold you for ransom?_ Tseng’s words. And Rufus, near giddy with excitement, had left the particulars of this encounter solely to the professional. He’s unsure now of which route he’s decided to take.

There’s the sound of a firearm as it’s unholstered, the soft click of the safety. Rufus enjoys dragging his tongue along the barrel of a Peacemaker as if it were his lover’s cock, but there is something vaguely unnerving about the scenario he finds himself in now. He _knows_ it is Tseng, knows that the gun is unloaded, a facsimile used for film and stage, and yet.

‘You shouldn’t be out alone.’ A purr from the darkness. He can envision him, sleek and deadly, like some coeurl on the hunt. ‘Didn’t anyone warn you there are dangerous men out here?’ The gun drags against his jaw, as Tseng leans in close, and murmurs. ‘Men like me.’

So, ransom it is. He feels a jolt of pleasure shoot between his legs. Lips find his ear, breath misting, muzzle nestled close. ‘Your father might pay good gil to have you returned. But maybe you’re worth more than gil.’ Rufus stills as lips touch his, sighs his lover’s name. He hears the soft sound of a laugh, genuine, and for a moment the touch is loving, knows that Tseng is looking at him. When he leans in for another kiss, he’s met with a jab of the firearm beneath his chin.

Rufus utters a single plea.

He feels Tseng’s weight settle against his thighs and thrusts helplessly. The cold metal shape of the barrel slips along the line of his jaw, then upwards. He draws a single intake of breath, Tseng’s thumb presses along the curve of his lower lip, and kisses him once more, coaxing, tongue warm. He gasps again, cock hard with want, rocks upwards, and sighs into Tseng’s mouth the word, ‘Please.’ There is a slap this time, hard enough to sting. The look Rufus gives would be deadly under different circumstances, unseeing eyes narrowed and glaring at where he deduces Tseng must be. He opens his mouth to say something more when he feels the sudden stunning sensation of what he knows is a paralyzing spell. A favourite of Tseng’s for fieldwork, a way to immobilize a target without any unnecessary _complications_. They’ve used it in the bedroom before, but Rufus cannot recall ever having been under the dual status effects. Robbed of movement, his mind races. He is completely at Tseng’s mercy, a prospect that thrills him. Tseng shifts, slips away. The sound of perfectly polished Oxfords on the hardwood floor, a pause, then. Rufus focuses on breathing, the rush of blood in his ears nearly deafening. The clink of a belt buckle, and purr of a zipper. He swallows.

There's the brush of a cock on his lips, gloved hands cradling his jaw with a deceptive gentleness, and then squeezing, forcing his head back. 'Take it.' Rufus does, mouth parting as the hard length glides against his tongue. He moans at the familiarity, the taste of Tseng grounding him to the reality of the situation, that as intense as this gets, he is safe. He inhales through his nostrils, eyes instinctively fluttering closed as he takes his lover’s cock, movements gentle, languid. The spell begins to lift, and with it comes a well calculated thrust, Tseng’s hand braced against the nape of his neck as he begins to fuck his mouth, driving harder and deeper.

Rufus cries at the sudden loss as Tseng withdraws. A thumb traces an ungentle line across his lower lip. Light blurs at the edge of his vision, haloed and hazy, catches a glimpse of Tseng there, cock hard, slightly more disheveled than usual as if the focus and control this encounter requires has been rather intense. Dark eyes meet his for a fleeting glance before darkness floods his vision once more. ‘Tseng.’

'No one's coming for you.'

Rufus aches with want. Fingertips ghost along his throat. There’s the hiss of silk sliding over leather, and then the cool sweep of it on his collarbone. He draws in a lasting breath as Tseng loops it around his neck, and pulls it taut. Rufus is acutely aware of the skill set his lover possesses, he is a killer, yes, but more so he is trained to extract information, by whatever means necessary. His lover knows how to keep someone _alive_. The silk tightens ever so slightly. Rufus gasps. They are hardly strangers to breathplay, Rufus finding comfort in the feel of Tseng’s hands wound about his neck, the surrender of trust, Tseng knows just the correct amount of pressure to apply, when to relent. The loop tightens further, restricting his airflow. He struggles against the bonds, as familiar as this touch is, it is still enough to overwhelm his senses, and his need for survival takes hold. The knot loosens, lips upon his, until they are sharing the same breath, a moment of reprieve. Tseng sighs his name. They begin again, this time Rufus focuses on the sound of Tseng’s breath, the slow intake, the way he holds it as the silk goes taut, breathing together as one. Tseng holds the silk fast, until Rufus struggles once more, wrists tugging in desperation against his bonds, tears catching on dark lashes as his lungs begin to burn, and when it loosens this final time, he falls forward, head resting against Tseng's chest, listening to the way his lover's heart pounds as he draws in a long shuddering breath.

No kisses follow. Rufus says his name, then once more. The shackles at his wrists fall away, a momentary reprieve before he is stripped of his shirt. When Tseng tells him he's beautiful, it is the sentiment of his lover, briefly forgetting their agreed upon narrative. He takes advantage of his freedom and reaches out. Tseng is still hard, hot, slick with precum.

There's a sharp inhale, Tseng thrusts into the touch. 'Rufus.' He arches up to where he might kiss Tseng’s lips.

'Please.'

Silk winds around his wrists, securing them firmly behind his back as he's hauled upright. A hand at the small of his back and one at his hip steady him. His head still swimming from the aftereffects of what Tseng’s hit him with. Deft fingers make short work of his trousers, he almost smiles at the thought Tseng reverently setting aside his designer clothes. His cock juts upward, framed by a light dusting of hair, flushed, leaking. The warmth of a bare hand slides torturously slow along his inner thigh. 'I think you like dangerous men.'

'Yes.' He trembles with need.

Two slick fingers encircle his hole. 'Tell me how many men you've let use you. That's how you keep them loyal, by letting them fuck this beautiful ass.'

Rufus laughs despite the circumstances, yelps as a finger slips in. 'You, just you.' Inhales, corrects. 'Just one.'

'Would they miss you?'

'They'd kill you.'

There's a dark sound of amusement. 'Do you want them to save you?'

Rufus stills. It is an out, knows Tseng is giving him an option to stop this, to have his lover, his Turk take over, to hold him and fuck him and assure him that he is safe.

'Not yet.' Rufus smiles ever so slightly. 'I like dangerous men.' It is all the invitation Tseng needs. The silk at his wrists tightens. Tseng's mouth closes around his ear, teeth nipping at the lobe and tugging. He'd worn a single stud of materia there once, thinks of how it might feel, the slight bite of pain when pulled too far. Lips are at his throat, there's the wet brush of Tseng’s cock against the curve of his ass, as a second finger breaches him.

He draws in a shuddering breath at the way Tseng stretches him to take his cock. They often implement toys, Rufus opening himself up while Tseng looks on, there is a certain deep intimacy to this, that despite the scenario they are enacting, Tseng’s touch is precise, careful. A fingertip glides against his prostate, then again before withdrawing. A hand cups his ass, spreading him wide. He knows by the sharp gasp that Tseng has taken himself in hand, there's the slick smear of precum, the head pushing in. Tseng fills him in a single movement, cock sliding deep. He cries out, Tseng hand moves to the sharp of his hip for leverage. He tells him he's tight, that he is, indeed, worth more than gil. Their slight height difference lends Tseng an advantage to truly drive up into that pliant heat, movements calculated in their cruelty, the dull pain only heightening his desire and need for Tseng to fuck him until he's pleading.

Rufus makes a sound of protest at the sudden loss of his lover's cock. 'Please, please.' He pulls at the silk binding his wrists, turns to where he believes Tseng to be, when firm hands take hold, one around his throat the other braced tight on his forearm. He pleads again.

Rufus finds himself face down on the rug. Cool hair cascades over his back, fingers bruise at his hips. Tseng shoves back inside with little warning, movements unrelenting. A hand catches around his throat once more, pulling Rufus upright. Tseng’s cock buries itself deeper. He wails then, lifts his ass, and drives back down, the hardness now zeroing in on that bundle of nerves that reduces him begging. The filth that begins to fall from Tseng’s lips only heightens his need. Words of how he never expected the President’s son to be such a whore, he'll keep him here forever until he forgets anything but the feel of his cock.

Rufus thinks of being used, defiled, his pristine carefully controlled existence reduced to filth. There is no affection in Tseng’s touch, it is unlike any encounter they've shared, and as Tseng shoves him forward into the floor, hips snapping with a savage cadence, Rufus loses himself.

'Chocomog.' Tseng stills, cock pressed deep.

'Do you wish to stop.'

Rufus focuses on the feel of Tseng's body, the scent of his cologne, the brush of fingertips now gentle, comforting. 'I need a moment.' He shudders once, and steadies his breathing, before rocking back, Tseng's hips now flush against his ass. 'Proceed.'

The first thrust is brutal enough to take the air from his lungs. Then another, fucking him in earnest now. He cries out for more, each stroke of Tseng's cock causing the pleasure to coil tighter. There's the rustle of something at his side, the familiar clink of materia like a pair of glass marbles, and then.

Rufus is vaguely aware of the sound of his lover's voice as his mind begins to swim. No. No. _No_.

He revives to the feeling of being splayed out across the bed, hands secured to the headboard. He's been hit with Blind again, and something more. Silence? He attempts to pull at the bonds and finds that he is paralyzed. _Tseng_. There is a hand then at face, lips upon his. He feels the slight vibration of Tseng’s voice against his skin, a kiss to each eyelid, then lower still, down his neck, the jut of his collarbone, a tongue sweeping over a nipple, a tiny bite at his hip. Tseng’s mouth closes on the straining shape of his cock. He tries to cry out, to thrust. _Tseng_.

Tseng's tongue drags across his hard length, swirling at the head, probing the slit that weeps with his need for release. His skin prickles when Tseng withdraws. There’s the slick pass of that same tongue, saliva mingling with lube before his legs are hoisted up to rest against familiar shoulders. He waits for one agonizing moment; Tseng splits him open on his cock, his movements less precise now, as if the exertion of this encounter is finally taking its toll on Tseng’s resolve and control. The words he says are muffled, Rufus feels like he's being held under water, but the spell is lessening. Tseng has timed this to keep Rufus on the very edge until the end. Light blooms at the corner of his vision, his lover above him, weight bearing down upon him as he pounds his ass with renewed force, each movement brushing against his prostate as a hand reaches down to stroke him in time. He throws his head back in ecstasy, legs clamped tightly around Tseng, mouth open around a silent cry as he comes, body quaking with pleasure as Tseng continues to drive into him, until at last he gives out a low moan, releasing deep inside Rufus' body, hips rocking to eke out the last vestiges of their orgasm.

Rufus collapses, shuddering, heart racing, eyes leaking tears from the intensity of his release. Tseng hovers above him, his face clearer now, dark eyes concerned as he unhook Rufus' legs, kisses his mouth. He feels his wrists being unbound, the way Tseng's lips touch each, in reverence, along scars and red welts, shifting Rufus until he is cradled against him, unconcerned with the way cooling cum smears slick between their spent bodies. He leans up to take Tseng's mouth in his own, and clings to him as their pulses both calm and even.

Some time later, Tseng slips away to shower, presses a kiss to Rufus' brow, tells him to wait until the status effects wear off.

Rufus blinks after a while, takes in his surroundings. The décor is tastefully sparse, yet deeply familiar, the scent of sandalwood heavy, not only from Tseng’s cologne he comes to realize. He sits up. On the bedside table there is a photo, a candid taken of him while on holiday some years prior in Costa. He smiles, suddenly touched by the intimacy of this encounter. In all their years together, Tseng has never taken him home. His lover is there in the doorway, clad in a pair of pyjama bottoms. 'I see you realized where we are.'

'I thought we were in some safe house.'

Tseng smiles then, 'The rail took some time getting used to, but it beats Shinra housing.' Their lips meet, Tseng’s hands that settle on his shoulders are affectionate, his words soft as he tells Rufus to go clean up, he's got champagne and caviar on ice.

Rufus pulls him into a another kiss, 'You're very romantic for a dangerous man.'

_Fin_


End file.
